


Accidental Indirect Incidents

by Marcabelle



Category: Frozen (Disney Movies), Frozen - Anderson-Lopez & Lopez/Lee
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Humor, Mild Angst, Random - Freeform, Random Pairing Generator, also random hans backstory bits you can either confirm or deny as headcanon, crack ship, please don't take me seriously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:20:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22819165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marcabelle/pseuds/Marcabelle
Summary: ""You're going to stay with the Ice Master and Deliverer's reindeer," It was spoken with such authority and clarity that he probably would have denied all will to argue anyway. Not that he would admit defeat in the slightest. "Consider it an honor to be able to reside with someone so high in command.""In which Sven and Hans, unbeknownst to them, somehow share five completely indirect kisses with no actual will nor reason to share a direct one.
Relationships: Anna/Hans (Disney), Hans/Sven (Disney: Frozen)
Kudos: 6





	1. Terms and Conditions

**Author's Note:**

> Father, I did it. Jk I'm v sorry  
> Written as a "surprise" joke for some friends of mine. They're probably very disappointed. Please accept my humblest of apologies.

Pathetic. That's exactly how Hans, the thirteenth son of the king of the Southern Isles (and the recently jailed convict of Arendelle), felt upon hearing the news. In retrospect, the settlement-- or rather, punishment -- didn't initially seem all too terrible. Besides, it wasn't like he was given any say in the matter. Things simply teetered off while he lay half conscious in his cell, and those were all the excuses he could come up with for not awarding the guards with some sort of argument.

He could at least recall part of the conversation.

"You're going to stay with the Ice Master and Deliverer's reindeer," It was spoken with such authority and clarity that he probably would have denied all will to argue anyway. Not that he would admit defeat in the slightest. "Consider it an honor to be able to reside with someone so high in command."

High in command? He was supposedly staying in a bloody shed with a bloody reindeer. How the hell was that thing supposed to be more sophisticated than him?

And of course, what sort of civilized prince would want to spend the night in a barn of all places? At least, that's what Hans assumed it was. There were haystacks everywhere, and the enclosed, wooden area smelled of dried manure and damp fur. He blinked as his foggy vision made an attempt to clear. Being punched in the face didn't exactly make things easier for him sightwise.

Hans let out a groan, questioning if the guards tossed him inside as he rubbed the back of his head with a gloved hand. He was pretty sure he lost all feeling in his legs, and with another moan, he stirred as he took in his surroundings. He really was in a barn. How utterly repulsive.

Vigorously massaging his eyes, Hans took the stable into view again, seeing no sign of any demented deer inside. Honestly, was there any sort of way to get comfortable in a place like this? Was he expected to sleep in that damn manger? He wouldn't be surprised if any prior animals had taken their supposed bathroom breaks in there. He proceeded to let out a childish whine before slumping onto his back, crashing into the itching hay that was a lot less like needles than he assumed. Before the prince could make any further attempt to get comfortable, he heard the door suddenly creak open.

"Oh, it's you."

Hans side-eyed the figure at the door, recognizing him as the deer's owner and as the supposed "Ice Master and Deliverer". Hans severely doubted the legitimacy of such a title, but the unplanned fear that began to grow in his chest prevented him from making any comments. And with a slow turn of his head, Hans saw that blasted reindeer standing behind its proprietor, snorting its way in the warm summer air. Hans wanted to curse at it, but again, the alarmed feeling of a warden possibly being nearby settled its way up to his throat.

"Look, the only reason you're here is because some of the ships were damaged from frost-caused rust, so some visitors have to stay here for a while," the ice harvester's tone was almost sincere; however, it certainly wasn't sorry. If anything, he showed more sorrow for his pet than for anyone else. "The Queen said she would be sure to accommodate anyone and everyone without full obligations." Hans raised a brow at the explanation before rolling his eyes and allowing the speaker to continue.

"You'll be back to your kingdom soon," the deer whisperer said before crabbily adding, "hopefully." He nodded his head into the stable as if telling his creature to clop inside. The animal actually seemed quite offended at first, as if rooming with a prince was of such low honor, but with a stern glare, it was convinced to plop beside the freckled "murderer" as many had somehow became accustomed to calling him.

Hans frowned at the reindeer, watching as it began to scratch itself with such violence that he was sure some of its fleas would get in his mussed-up hair. He couldn't believe the spontaneous decision his mind had come up with, but he would much rather room with the brothers that have mistreated him since the day he was born than with this delusional man's prized possession.

"I should be back soon," the one Hans had temporarily dubbed as 'Blondie' mumbled out, watching his fellow ice carrier with interest. His gaze fell back on Hans before scowling. "Don't even think about hurting Sven. He's sensitive." And with that, the door was closed.

The reindeer, now known as Sven, stopped scratching at his side to stare at the prince with mild curiosity before making its way to munch on the hay that Hans was just about to claim as his bed. Hans growled.

Perfect. What an amazing way to spend an afternoon.


	2. Cups, Bowls, and Blazing Heat

Hans stared at the barn ceiling with boredom glazed over his eyes; though, it could have been near death as the sweltering heat continued to build inside the wooden capsule. The prince was quite certain that he was in literal Hell, but one could digress. He had decided to make it his mission to count the number of lines in the wood of the roof in order to keep his mind off of things-- that being the current situation he was in. He didn't bother trying to get along with Sven. He was rooming with a stupid reindeer, for crying out loud. There wasn't exactly much to bond over, and Hans wasn't going to try and find out if there was.

When he got to line number thirty-nine, he began to feel the heat catch up to him. A wave of dizziness flew through his head as beads of perspiration began to pass down the corners of his sideburns, so he finally opted for shrugging off his suit jacket, feeling the open air hit his sweat-filled back. He let out a moan in relief, the sound ending as a sigh as he ran his still-gloved fingers through his hair. Hans didn't care that the reindeer has ceased its chewing, giving the prince an uncomfortable stare. And sure, the look didn't suit Hans very well and it was quite unprofessional in wear, but he was comfortable. He soon even abandoned his necktie and gloves, shoving the things into his pocket as he tied the jacket around his waist. _Now _he could relax.__

____

__

With another sigh, he looked up at Sven, and with a roll of his eyes, but with small amusement at the end of his lips, he jested quite rudely, "What are you looking at?"

Sven gave a dirty look in response and almost seemed as if he was going to cross his forearms in disappointment (which he didn't, in case one was curious enough to wonder). Hans wanted to laugh at the whole ordeal. He was just so relieved to be rid of the feeling of being recently placed in an oven, and with his newfound joy he motioned for the reindeer to continue his bothersome smacking before glancing up at the roof again. He pulled up the sleeves of his dark blue button-up and carried on with counting the lines of the wood.  
  
In truth, Hans had enough persistence and practice with such a dull task. He had always needed something to do when he was forcefully placed into tiny closets by his brothers when he was young. If anything, the intricate designs on the wood of the barn roof were distinct and familiar but were not at all of the same design as, say, the marble of the bathrooms, which was something that Hans had practically memorized; he'd been kept in there so many times for so long. He closed his eyes for a mere second, and he could almost hear his desperate screams as he cried for his mother and father to unlock the door-- to just _get him out _. But of course it was fruitless since they were always busy with whatever royal works they were doing. After all, they could barely hear over the sounds of twelve brothers sharing a round of mocking laughter. To constantly busy parents, twelve often sounded like thirteen.__

____

____

Hans was on line number 104 when he heard the door squeak open again. It was that damn ice harvester coming back with his unmanly blondeness. How quaint.

"Hey, Sven," the reindeer's owner chirped at his pet, and then he grimaced upon looking down at the disheveled son of a king on the ground. "Prince Hans." He said the name and, most surprisingly, the title as if it were a sour taste in his mouth, wanting to get rid of the curse as quickly as possible.

Hans wasn't too keen on being addressed with such poor attitude, and quite frankly, Hans considered the other man lucky that he hadn't begun a yelling fit. "Blondie." An attempt was made at mimicking the amount of disdain in the nicknamed's tone; however Hans only got as far as one could with such a lousy title.

The official Ice Master held a cup and bowl in one hand, holding the rickety door with the other. Water sloshed around in the porcelain containers, and Hans instantly stared at ceramics, unknowingly licking his lips. He had actually grown quite thirsty and had just now realized how forlorn he was without any liquids. He was tempted to claw at it like a child wistfully wishing for candy, but he wasn't pathetic. Hans was still a prince, after all. He had a proper composure to uphold, with or without proper dress.

"It's Kristoff, actually," the water holder confirmed. "I'm just here to make sure neither of you pass out from dehydration. That's all."

"Charming sentiment," Hans hissed, tugging at the sleeves around his waist. "But thank you."

Kristoff let out a quiet snort, closing the door behind him before placing the bowl of water down on the ground. Hans stared at it feverishly, hoping that the mug would be passed on to him soon. He was surprised that the reindeer hadn't made a beeline for it yet, or perhaps it did, and Hans was too distracted by the shimmering pool that he hadn't seen Sven lap all of the water up in one go. He certainly would have, and he almost did. But that would be appalling. Hans wasn't a dog; he wasn't going to drink water out of a bowl. If he had to be any animal at all, it would be a lion. A courageous lion that roared loudly and feared nothing-- not even the pain inflicted by those he thought he could trust.

Hans heard a _clink _as Kristoff finally placed the mug down, and Hans' eyes widened like saucers as he zipped toward it. He had cracked. It was a truly pathetic sight to witness, but the prince could not care less about how people viewed him in the moment. It felt like a millennia since he last had something to drink, even though it had only been a mere few hours since he had awoken in the barn. He chugged the water in the cup down to the last drop, cherishing the cool liquid as it poured down the back of his throat with some dribbling down his chin, reaching his button-up and drenching it. As soon as he finished, Hans let out a loud gasp of satisfaction, earning a look of distaste from the other two in the room.__

____

____

"What?" Hans challenged the reindeer. He cautiously placed the mug back down on the ground before looking at the ice harvester again. He half-heartedly mumbled out a "thank you," forcing himself to look at the empty porcelain container.

Kristoff rocked on his heel before he cleared his throat, "That mug is actually Sven's. I hope you're okay knowing that you shared water with a reindeer."

Before Hans could process the statement, and feel the tingle of uncleanliness on his tongue, he let out a low squeal in embarrassment. He watched Sven frown at Kristoff, and the ice harvester smiled back.

"Of course I don't mind sharing with you, buddy. Just talking about the royal highness, over here."

Hans could have sworn Sven snickered at the statement. _That's _why Blondie didn't put the mug down right away. He was helping that damn moose get his fluids in. Hans desperately wanted to sink into a dark hole.__

____

____

With much hastiness, Hans scrubbed his tongue and lips with his necktie, angrily cursing behind Kristoff who scampered out the door in a fit of laughter before promptly locking him and Sven back inside, the latter lapping up the rest of the water that was preserved in the bowl. Hans frantically made a grab for the door, scratching and letting out shameful whimpers from behind in auto-piloted movement, ignoring Sven's sympathetic looks as it pushed the porcelain towards him.

The humiliation prevented Hans from figuring out that there were exactly 2,728 lines in the wood of the roof.


	3. A Message to the Royal Family

Hans awoke to the sound of someone reading a story. Or, at least, _telling_ a story. With the fluttering of his eyes, the prince found himself facing the door, away from the fable teller; he was a tad bit farther than he had last recalled. Never mind that. Who had the gall to actually sneak in here?

Upon tuning an ear to listen, he took notice of the lack of pauses between the spoken words. The narrator's tone made it seem like they've told this story many times before, but they still found pride in telling it and wished for people to ask them to recite the tale again and again.

Hans mustered enough curiosity to try and listen in to what the anecdote entailed.

"And even though Rudolph was teased for being different because of his nose, he felt secure with the people he knew he could trust." Hans eventually identified the voice as Kristoff's, and judging from the happy snorts coming from behind, he figured the story was being told to Sven. Typical.

"Just one more story," a deep voice that oddly sounded like Kristoff's begged.

The ice harvester's voice returned to normal after a breath. "No, Sven. You know we need to rest."

The deeper-voiced Kristoff spoke again, "Can't you at least sleep here?" Hans could have sworn a chill ran down his back at the notion. He most definitely hoped Kristoff _wouldn't_ be sleeping in here.

Normal Kristoff laughed. "You know I can't, buddy. Not until everyone gets back safely."

There was another snort in response. "Okay."

Hans blinked, still bleary eyed and not at all bushy-tailed. That Blondie sound-alike couldn't have actually been Sven, could it? That didn't make any sense; it wasn't possible. He slowly stabilized himself and pushed up from the ground, arching his now tense back as straight as he possibly could. He looked down, seeing that his suit jacket was no longer tied around his waist but was resting over him like a blanket. He stared at it for a moment before a voice snapped him out of his stupor.

"You're awake," Kristoff's voice hummed tiredly. "We didn't mean to wake you."

Hans slowly craned his head around, looking at the pair that was relaxing on a fresh pile of hay. He was right. The story wasn't from a book.

Hans absentmindedly played with the ends of his tailcoat before speaking, "No, I've been awake." He lied through his teeth as he was so accustomed to doing. "Just a matter of not being able to sleep."

"Uh-huh," was the response. It came out as a suppressed sigh--almost like a yawn.

Hans, back still sore, raised a brow, suddenly taking notice of Sven eyeing his thin fingers that were still fiddling with the tips of his suit jacket. Without warning, the reindeer nudged his owner, motioning toward the tailcoat with a smile.

Kristoff cracked a lazy grin, rubbing his friend that was now wildly energetic. "Sven just wants to get credentials straight. He was the one who wanted to make sure you weren't cold. 'Said you were apparently shivering."

Sven, with a stick of his tongue, gave a crazed, triumphant nod before sitting down on his hind legs. The reindeer seemed really proud of his good deed, and Hans couldn't help but giddily beam, even if for a second. A reindeer actually requested that he get tucked in. The thought was fairly innocent enough, and it was certainly considerate. Quite cute, actually.

Then his smile fell. A reindeer, of all things, was what was being nice to him. And after what he had done. He had manipulated; he had nearly slaughtered. And yet this creature was being decent enough to at least make sure he was warm? It couldn't have been a person? Kristoff didn't come up with this blasphemy, did he? Did it really have to be this... _deranged war donkey?!_

The Ice Master proceeded to get up, waving his hand so Hans could get out of the door's way. "I'm going to bed. See you both in the morning."

"Wait," Hans commanded. He didn't know what persuaded him to say such a thing, but in the long run, he was actually quite surprised that the ice harvester stopped to listen, hand on the door handle with an annoyed look on his features. His continuation was immediate as if the intent had been at the back of his mind all along. "Since no one is sure of how long I'll be staying here, I'd like to write a letter."

"A letter?" Kristoff said, almost in disbelief. "I'm assuming to those brothers of yours?"

Hans forced himself to say "yes," taking a shaky inhale before finishing his request, "and I'd like to write to them as soon as possible. I'm hoping to send out my message early in the morning, so I can guarantee they've received it."

Kristoff stroked his face with his hand. "Now? You want me to get you paper and a pen now?"

Hans nodded, "It would be much appreciated."

"As in practically midnight now?"

"Like I said," Hans reiterated sternly, "it would be much appreciated."

Kristoff shot an imploring look in the direction behind Hans which, he assumed, meant that the ice harvester was asking for Sven's two cents. Honestly, Sven of all peo-- of all reindeer.

"Just get it for him, please?" Hans watched Arendelle's Ice Master and Deliverer move his lips, the deep voice coming out of his mouth.

"Alright, fine," Kristoff seemed to respond to himself, heading out the door with the mission of retrieving paper and pen instead of heading to sleep. He called from the outside, "I'll get it if it makes you happy." Hans was almost sorry for him (with utmost emphasis on almost).

But dear God, this man was insane. Or perhaps the both of them were just that tired. As long as he was only imagining things, Hans was sure his sanity would remain.

Upon turning around, however, the prince witnessed a very happy reindeer rock back and forth on his hind as if he were a toddler being given a new toy to stick up their nose. Honestly, this day was getting stranger by the minute.

Within a few moments, Kristoff had returned with the desired goods. Hans was actually rather thankful for his speed; he was sure he felt the air around him close up as he was filled with the mindset that he'd have to spend more time with this damned animal.

"Do I have your permission to rest now, your highness?" Kristoff asked plainly, a yawn finally managing to escape his lips.

Hans gave a cherished nod, thanking him on his way out.

...Your highness. Hans liked the sound of that.

He looked back at Sven who seemed to be patiently waiting for him to begin writing. And so Hans scooted closer to the animal with his pen and paper. He wasn't sure the reason: warmth or support, perhaps? Really, Hans simply wasn't sure. And yet, he did the deed.

Pulling over a lowly lit lamp that remained in the corner of the barn, Hans stopped to think of proper phrasing. It wasn't long before he began to scribble words onto the paper:

_To the members of the Westergaard residence,_

_It is here that I express my situation in as simple of terms as I possibly can. I have been stranded in the Kingdom of Arendelle for the time being as the result of a surprise summer blizzard which truly is as unusual as it sounds. There are currently no forms for me to return home safely, so I request that a boat be sent out in order for my coming back to be swift and diligent._

Hans knew he should have stopped the letter there. That was all his family had the attention span and time for reading, anyway. But something urged him to write more. He wanted to see if he could get some sort of response-- not necessarily a positive one-- just a response, period. Anything that showed acknowledgement. Anything that showed that he existed.

_That aside, I have come to say that I have missed my family deeply on my travels. I hope that I will be able to hear from you all soon, perhaps by another message if not by boat._

_Signed, Hans Westergaard_

He read the letter a couple of times, checking for any errors he might have made or checking if he was certainly ready to send such a note. Without the will to look back again, he forcefully-- _clumsily_ \-- shoved the letter in the envelope Kristoff had thrown behind him. He sighed, a hopeful sadness welling up in his chest, and before he could stop himself, he pressed his lips to the seal before closing it shut.

He ran his fingers over the pen, anxiousness instantly replacing the hope that had taken so long and so many years to build up. He really wanted them to receive this notice, but he couldn't explain his desperate want and why.

Hans sighed and looked up at Sven, the letter still in his hand. He opened his mouth to speak, somewhat self-conscious of the fact that he was about to have a one on one with a reindeer.

"Thanks for convincing Blondie over there to get these for me," he gestured to the writing supplies. "I'm very appreciative."

Sven simply panted, looking at the letter.

"What, do you want to read it?" Hans found the thought rather hilarious, but he refrained from laughing; though, he did allow a small chuckle to slip. Especially when Sven's mouth opened wider. "What are you doing?"

_Chomp._

"Oh," Hans said, defeated. "That's what you were doing."

He looked at his hand, the letter now being mauled to pieces by that blasted reindeer. He attempted to shake the drool from his hand but instead ended up wiping it on his tailcoat, chucking the thing to the side. He shivered. Sven swallowed.

"Of course," Hans hugged his knees to his chest, a small set of sniffles suddenly breaking the silence of the barn. It was from the unnecessary cold, of course. He wasn't crying. Hans didn't cry over useless matters. In fact, he hadn't cried since he had been home-- if he could even call that hellish place a home. That was certainly something he wouldn't say aloud. And after all, he could always write another letter if he wanted to.

So why did his diminishing hope have to stop his motivation to?

Hans was unmoving, skin prickling with goosebumps from the brisk air. Then he tensed up at a sudden feeling of fur behind him. Looking back, he felt Sven curl around him, giving him warmth and shelter and wrapping Hans in a blanketed hug. It almost was like how a home should be.

And with a final sigh, the two of them closed their eyes, just waiting for the morning.


	4. Open Doors and Second Chances

There was a knock on the door. It was quiet, tentative. Hans was actually surprised he was able to hear it. He was also quite surprised to hear someone _knock_ since the ice harvester usually barged in whenever he damn-well pleased.

Perhaps a guard had found a ship? The news would certainly be much appreciated if it meant that he could get out of there as soon as possible. Hans really was not sure he would be able to last another day in this loop of torture. So he brushed himself off, straightening out his shirt and collar, reaching for the tailcoat he had thrown aside. Then he opened the door.

And there stood Anna, the princess of Arendelle.

"Good afternoon," she said, her voice lilted but somewhat shaky--just how it sounded when Hans had first met her. Her arms were twisted in front of her body, fingers tugged by their opposites. "Do you mind if I come in?"

Hans soundlessly moved over to the side to allow her in, and he quickly put on his suit jacket, following by placing his gloveless hands behind his back. He couldn't help but suddenly feel underdressed, and his unkempt hair didn't help matters; however, Anna didn't seem to notice. Her expression was contorted in distress as she looked around the barn in silence.

Anna turned to look back at Hans, lips parting to ask a question, "Where's Sven?"

"He's out," Hans murmured plainly. After a short second he swiftly and mockingly added, "the Ice Master and Deliverer taking him for a walk."

"Oh," It was a simple response, but it almost sounded defensive, as if it were Hans' fault that Sven wasn't in the stable at the moment. "That's nice."

The barn was filled with silence again except for the creaking of floorboards with every step the pair made. Hans watched as Anna pressed herself against the door, most likely as a way of preventing him from leaving. Of course she had no faith in him; she couldn't even believe that he could stay put. How pitiful.

Nearly a minute had gone by. The air was thick and was close to choking Hans with each passing tick on his imaginary clock. A muted noise breathlessly left Anna's mouth as she stared at the scattered hay and wooden chips on the ground. Hans had to gently ask if she could repeat it again.

" _Why?_ " She croaked out. Finally, she glanced up at him. "Why did you have to betray us all like that? It just doesn't make any sense."

Hans inhaled deeply, the tense air catching itself in his throat. Could it have been nerves? No, such a thing wasn't possible. He was calm and cool and collected. Most of the time, anyway. He nearly sputtered out but instead allowed for only a light cough to escape before the words. "I've already told you: as thirteenth in line--"

"No," Anna interrupted him. She took a small step away from the door, her palms still facing it protectively. "There's no way that's completely true."

Hans stared at her, his mind filling itself with puzzlement before letting her continue.

"I know you're smart. You and I both know that's not how the monarchy works."

"Well, Princess Anna," Hans forced himself to scoff as he deemed it a necessity in this circumstance. He shoved his hands in his pockets. "You didn't seem to notice anything when I first told you my plan, did you?"

"What you might not have noticed, _Hans of the Southern Isles_ ," Anna spat out the sentence, a cutting tone piercing at the prince's name and place of origin. Hans didn't fail to hear that she ignored his title, purposeful or not. "Was that I was kind of, you know, freezing to death at the time because someone--and I mean you--didn't want to give me at least a peck to save my life! And also because someone-- _still you!_ \-- just had to be a power-hungry, selfish jerk who flipped all intentions at the last minute!" She huffed and crossed her arms, turning towards the direction of the door. "I just can't believe that I trusted you." She faltered. "I can't believe that I actually _liked you_."

Then she growled, "and I can't believe that you won't even bother to admit the truth!"

Hans stood there, dumbfounded and surprised that he was at a loss for words, but it was only for a moment, "What truth? That is the truth, I..." He trailed off. Was it the complete truth? Power was a good thing to own, of course. But maybe, just maybe, the price of power gave a valuable reward.

Anna turned her head to look at him, her blue eyes wide, questioning, and also clearly wondering when he would talk again. Hans allowed her to speak instead, and she took the chance to talk again once she figured out he wouldn't carry on with his statement. With a hand moving toward the door handle, she uttered, "I can't believe I was actually foolish enough to come and check up on you." She paused to play with the trim on her dress, and her following words were almost a whisper, "I can't believe I'm actually foolish enough to still wonder and care about you."

Hans froze at her words. She wasn't serious, was she? The nerve this girl had! But Hans surprised himself yet again with the too-familiar command: "Wait."

And so, Anna waited, her figure back in the direction of the door.

The prince cleared his throat before speaking, "Alright. Maybe it wasn't only the power that I wanted."

There was a second wave of stillness within the barn. "Go on," she urged him.

"And no, I wasn't looking forward to money either," Hans could practically see Anna rolling her eyes as if this were something obvious. He felt his mouth begin dry as a stroke of nausea passed through his mind, but he persisted anyway. "It was acceptance and approval," he said at last, "that's what I was after."

Anna leaned her left shoulder back, turning her head slightly to follow. Hans could tell that he had caught some of her interest. "And? What's that supposed to mean?"

"I have twelve older brothers, and I can assure you that's the truth. They've ignored me; they've stepped and trampled over me all my life. If I could come back with the knowledge that I've snagged a princess--" he hesitated, realizing that 'snagged' might not have been a good choice of words, "well, at the very most, be given the chance to be appointed the ruler of a kingdom with the two heirs gone, maybe they'd finally listen to me...

"Maybe they'd finally show me some respect." He was disgusted at himself. Appalled. Why did he tell her all of this?

Anna had completely whirled around to face him, hurt evident in her stature. Sympathy...? Was she filled with sympathy for him? "Hurting other people isn't a good way to earn the respect of others, you know. Perhaps don't do that anymore?" She begged. "Please?"

Hans nodded lamely, wanting her to finish up so he wouldn't have to think about the people that have tormented him (and probably will continue to torment him as soon as he gets back). He preferred the peace and quiet, but at the same time, he wasn't quick to send her away.

She sighed. And then she smiled. Hans saw that it was actually a kind smile. It was a _genuine_ smile, and in the calmest tone of voice that had ever hit Hans' ears, Anna's voice practically sang, "I forgive you."

Hans felt his heart skip a beat before the continuous sound began to drum louder and louder in the back of his head. She had to be lying. She forgave him? Just like that? There had to be a catch, and there probably was one or, at least, a fine print or something. Doubt was built stronger than Hans' wishful thinking at the moment.

Anna seemed to notice his expression, so she took the liberty to talk again, "You don't seem like the type to make the same mistakes twice." She frowned suddenly, a color of pink spreading beneath her freckles. "Because I certainly wouldn't want to make the same mistake of placing trust in the wrong people." She began to inch closer toward him, and soon, she was standing directly in front of his face, their eyes locked on each other. "Please promise me that you can give me a reason to believe in you."

Hans felt the room begin to spin as a chill of nerves slithered down his spine. He didn't still have feelings for her, did he? Then again, Hans never had any _real_ feelings for Anna. Unless, perhaps...he did? She was a simple pawn in his plan, after all. She was the one who willingly filled the spot that Elsa was initially supposed to occupy. And so quickly, too.

So then, why did the crestfallen look on Anna's face make Hans' chest squeeze with pain? He wasn't usually one for pity nor sympathy unless it were for himself, and especially since he nearly murdered her sister, why would he have any need or reason to feel remorse now? Clearly the prince had grown weak in this damn barn, and he had only been there for half a day and a morning thus far--at least, he'd been awake for only half a day and a morning.

Hans reeled at her words. "I promise." And he meant it.

With a burst of joy, Anna wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a quick hug. Before he could debate on whether or not he should hug back, she giggled and pushed him away. "Sorry! 'Got excited. But thank you."

Hans held her down, hands automatically falling onto her waist in a practiced fashion. As he tried to calm her still-jittery self down, a snicker flew out of his lips. 

...Lips. _Why the hell was he suddenly staring at Anna's lips?_

The pair shared the silence with one another, Anna's arms snaking their way back onto Hans' shoulders. And without warning, she pulled him close, heads locked together in an action that wasn't passionate but, instead, tender and familiar.

Hans couldn't believe that this was happening. It was like a dream.

_And quite the dream it was._

That's when he woke up to the sound of recognizable laughter along with the sight of himself having a make out session with Sven's hoof. He instantly jerked away, a high temperature spreading over his beet red face. And to make matters worse, Kristoff's laughter had increased once Hans reached into his mouth to pull out a rough strand of fur, suddenly realizing that the reindeer's cloven foot was actually quite damp--at least, that's what Hans observed when he had his lips pressed to the damn thing.

Why was it wet? He hadn't been tonguing it, had he?!

Hans wiped his lips and licker on one of his gloves that he instantaneously pulled out of his pocket. (He had deserted his necktie a while back, and he fervently followed suit with his right glove. He wouldn't be surprised if he'd end up chucking the left one eventually, too.)

"Relax," Kristoff chided, petting his reindeer proudly as if he were displaying Sven in a tutu for a dog show. "I'll get you some water. I think you might've gotten some of Sven's saliva in your mouth." He added the last part with amusement at the tips of each word, causing the red in Hans' cheeks to brighten even more.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Hans croaked out, his tone filled with spite instead of curiosity before hastily untucking his shirt, feeling the well-known, flustering warmth pass through his veins. The longer he stayed in this hell, the more unkempt his appearance became. He figured he'd be out of there looking as disappointing as the ice harvester dressed.

Kristoff attempted to lean his back on the door and, quite obviously, nearly lost his balance from laughing too hard, allowing Hans to at least share an inaudible chortle with himself. Kristoff propped himself back up before speaking, "He likes to lick himself in the morning. It's his bathtime."

"...Oh?"

"Yeah," Blondie admitted, the cheeriness back in his voice. "If I knew you two were going to share so much spit, I wouldn't have gotten either of you water."

Hans paled. "No, no. I'd really be thankful for it." He added a hasty "please" to prove his point.

Kristoff relished in Hans' chagrin, making the latter fume with a bubbling rage. Sven grunted with satisfaction as if it were proud that Hans had apparently chosen to lick its hoof among the other reindeer.

Kristoff's lasting chuckles rang throughout the barn as he walked out the door with Sven in tow, who seemed all too eager for a short walk around town. Hans yawned, watching the door close again. He really wished he was back asleep.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my buddy-roos for helping me draft a basic idea for the dream. (They prolly don't remember since I asked them ages ago, but that's besides the point.) My lack of a creative mind has cursed me (and apparently you, if you're reading).


End file.
